


Fire and Ash

by marimoes



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Blood, Post Arishok duel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27686348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marimoes/pseuds/marimoes
Summary: A hand touches his shoulder—gentle, urging—pulling him back. His eyes find Anders’, lulled with something far from sleep, and he takes a conscious breath. It stings his lungs where it finds purchase inside his chest, burning with air not meant to be breathed deeply. Anders again pulls him, guiding him the last few steps.“Let’s get you home,” he says, whispering in a city that screams. “You’ve done enough.”
Relationships: Anders & Male Hawke (Dragon Age), Anders/Male Hawke
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Fire and Ash

There is something sick about the air around them when the dust settles. Fire and ash alike covers the city like a blanket, but instead of tucking it in for the night it signals only the beginning. The Arishok is dead, there is civil unrest in the streets from the chaos and all Hawke can do is stand there. Blood dripping from his hands and armor like a mural that finds its ruin in the rain. It all falls off of him against the equally red soaked carpets.

A hand touches his shoulder—gentle, urging—pulling him back. His eyes find Anders’, lulled with something far from sleep, and he takes a conscious breath. It stings his lungs where it finds purchase inside his chest, burning with air not meant to be breathed deeply. Anders again pulls him, guiding him the last few steps. 

“Let’s get you home,” he says, whispering in a city that screams. “You’ve done enough.” 

_Home._ The word makes a laugh choke from Hawke’s chest. That word holds love. That word holds comfort. This city knows nothing of either thing and never has. He’s certain it never will. 

“Hawke,” Anders murmurs at the laugh, brows pinching in concern, “what are you laughing at?” 

“What wouldn’t I laugh at now? It’s all so absurd. I just,” Hawke pauses, taking a beat to look around again. Still real. Still tragic. “I just murdered a man in a duel. Isn’t that insane?” 

“Hawke,” Anders starts again, reaching to place a hand against his cheek to steady him. To force his gaze on him instead. How smart he is to do that, Hawke is certain the healer knows. “please, let me get you home.” 

“I’ll go, I promise. I just have to know something so it doesn’t eat at me.” He reaches, mirroring Anders’ hold and draws his forehead to his, taking another deep breath. “Do you still want to be with me?” 

Anders jerks back at once, head slightly shaking like he was shocked. His eyes are wide, glossy with confusion and his mouth opens. It opens but no words come out. Instead, he just looks around the remnants of the room. 

_Ceiling. Floor. Hawke._

_Ceiling. Floor. Hawke._

“What?” Anders finally says, hoarsely like he hasn’t taken a breath to support it in minutes. “Why would you ask that? Why would you _think_ that?” 

“I just took down the Arishok alone, Anders. That’s terrifying. It’s going to draw a lot of unwanted attention, we both know it. If that’s too dangerous for you, then I understand.” 

An uneven sickness sits on his shoulders as he speaks. He’s felt like this for months now, ever since Anders moved in. He was safer within the estate’s walls, but at a cost. Now, Hawke just raised the price—again. Now the words he’s thought of at night, tracing him like a threat as he does the same to Anders’ shoulder, are finally real. 

They’re real and he wants nothing more than to take them back. 

Anders’ eyes narrow as he struggles to process what was just said, mouthing it back silently as if he could uncode something beneath the hysteria that came out of Hawke’s mouth. 

“ _Too dangerous for me?_ ” Anders strains, hands clasping onto his shoulders. His nails creak against the fabric, pleading along with his ragged breath. “Let’s go home. Please. Our home, I want to be there, right now. I want a piece of something that isn’t broken.” He pulls his hands up to cradle either side of Hawke’s face, holding him like a prayer. “I want your head on the pillow next to mine. Your legs wrapped so tight around me that I can’t move. I want these things. _I’m always going to want these things_.” 

“ _You can’t say that with certainty_ ,” Hawke urges, throwing a hand up to the empty room. “What if this is only the beginning. What if I have to do something even worse next time? You’re a good man, I can’t take you down with me.” 

Anders’ hands shake against his skin and he grits his teeth before releasing his hold. He takes to pacing away a few steps before circling back, eyes wild as he forms his response. Ash falls, dusting his golden hair into a dull brown and Hawke swallows. This is his very fear; dampening the single light in his life with layers of ruin. 

His hands dig into his hair, scratching at the scalp until he too now laughs. Bleak and empty to join the one that still begs for release once more in Hawke’s lungs. 

“Sometimes you ask me how I feel about you, like I even have enough air in my lungs to do it justice,” Anders pleads, lips quirking but the mage does not smile. “Take me down with you? _Take me down with you?_ Do you hear yourself? Please, love, let me take you home. You’re tired, you’re high on adrenaline and you’re not thinking clearly, but I will not entertain this thought for a second.” 

Hawke stares at him, swallowing back the argument laid ready on his tongue. His heartbeat starts to slow and it’s only then does he start to register it again. It had become part of his surroundings, fast and loud as everything fell apart under his feet that could not stop unless he wanted to die. 

“I’m,” Anders grits his teeth, biting back a sob that still manages to escape in a hiss. He closes the space again, tugging desperately at Hawke’s chest. “I could have lost you—I could have lost Isabela. I’m glad, ok? I’m happy that he’s dead, because it means you’re alive. If that makes me a terrible person, then good. Now we’re even and we can go _home_.” 

There is desperation in Anders’ voice, one that is different than what he usually wears. He wants Hawke to believe what he’s saying. He needs him to. That against a wall of sin, tallied with blood, Anders’ selfish desire weighs even. 

“Ok.” 

“Ok?” Anders asks, laughing again, weak and half hearted. “I’m not going to question this. I won’t give you the chance.” 

He pulls on Hawke again and this time he follows without restraint. Feet drag against the ground through blurs of orange and black, but they don’t stop. They don’t rest until Hawke steps into his room and the weight of it all drops off his shoulders with his clothes. They sit in a filthy pile in the corner, a red soaked reminder in the back of his mind. 

When he wakes the next morning, tangled in Anders like a well kept promise, they’re gone, and Hawke never sees them again. 


End file.
